Penitence
by Jubalii
Summary: Long ago, a young witch lived in the land. For the price of love, she paid her life. The events surrounding that fateful execution are not well known, lost to time. Only one being still alive remembers that day, and is more than willing to share its horrific details to his master.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** It's no secret that I love VOC LOID. This story is based off of the song "Witch Hunter", with Luka, Miku, and all the rest. It's a very sad song that's definitely worth listening to. If Japanese isn't your think, Jubyphonic has a beautiful English fandub of the song that can easily be found on YouTube.

* * *

Integra Hellsing was not a woman to be trifled with. However, her unusual servant wasn't a man to give up. Currently, the two were in a silent standoff as she refused to acknowledge the fact that he currently was peering over her shoulder, breathing rather dramatically on her neck as he surveyed her work. Finally Integra slammed the manila folder shut and pulled a cigar from the breast pocket of her suit. Lighting it, she took a relaxing drag and finally turned to face her would-be tormentor.

"Can I help you with something, Alucard?" she snapped. He smirked at her and shook his head, leaning back against the windowsill. "Then why are you here?" she asked, grinding her teeth on the cigar as she struggled to keep her composure. As much as she loved using him as an undead target, the budget sheet told her that she needed to save as much money (and therefore as many bullets) as she could.

"Tonight is an exceptionally beautiful night, Lady Hellsing," Alucard said, gesturing to the moonlit grounds outside the window. "It's nights like these that I used to fill that young, innocent head of yours with stories." Integra huffed, remembering all too well what he was referring to.

"You mean you gave me mental scars. I had nightmares for months after your "story". You're lucky I never told Walter."

"Yes, and you never asked for a fairytale from me again. We're both winners," Alucard replied scathingly. Integra bit down unthinkingly and snapped the lit cigar in half. Cursing, she stamped the embers on the tile floor and rubbed a hand over her face in frustration. Alucard eyed her thoughtfully. "Stress doesn't become you, my master." Integra gave him a weary look before leaning back in her chair.

"It's just that the Vatican is still trying to stick their noses in my affairs, and besides that; haven't you noticed that there are too many vampires at once? I've never seen such an outbreak." She looked towards the No-Life-King, wondering if he had any advice to give on the matter.

"Yes, I've noticed that as well. So many maggots; there must be garbage nearby. But still…the Vatican, you say? Priests and their lot have always had a bad time with nosing in others' affairs." He smiled almost wistfully at the moon before glancing at the woman in the chair, the grin widening into a vicious leer. "This reminds me of when I met a witch."

"Witches don't exist; you and I both know that," Integra said, not bothering to take the bait. Alucard hummed noncommittally, crossing his arms under his coat.

"No? But that can't be, because I met one. It's not a story I tell often, simply because it has a happier ending then the others. Not one of my favorites, you see." Integra opened her eyes at his offhanded comment, leaning forward to rest her hands on her knees. _Alucard telling a happy story? Impossible. _

"I don't believe you," Integra said in a bored tone, fully realizing that this was what the vampire wanted. She did enjoy humoring her servant once in a while; he loved to speak of blood and guts in an effort to nauseate her, but every once in a while a miniscule moral would be slipped unintentionally into his grotesque tales. "But if it'll keep you quiet, I'll listen." The vampire gave her an absolutely sickening smirk and waved his hands in the air theatrically.

"As you wish, but don't say I didn't warn you. Once, long ago…"


	2. Chapter 2

Long ago, before planes or cars or even horse-drawn carriages dominated the unpaved pathways, there was a small town nestled in a valley. The mountains around the valley protected it from invaders, and the sweet, pure air that blew from the peaks invigorated the town, allowing its people to thrive. The one downside to the valley's location was that in being cut-off from invaders, it was also unpopular with travelers. Very few people braved the steep climb to get to the valley, and so the townspeople grew quite single-minded in their beliefs, not knowing any other ways in the world.

The people of the town were governed by the temple, a large and sturdy ancient building that had originally been the site of Pagan rites. Now, the temple served as the town church. Thirteen priest and priestesses acted as police, judge, jury, and executioners. They worked according to "the literal word of our Lord" and the town was virtually crime-free as a result of their efforts. The Thirteen, as they were called by the people, were in turn governed by the High Priest. He was a religious zealot who believed that all sinners should spend their last minutes burning, in preparation for the fires of Hell that their damned souls would be suffering in for eternity. Now,

* * *

_Integra held up a hand.  
"Calling fourteen people "The Thirteen" sounds rather ignorant." Alucard's lips twisted and he frowned at her until she became silent again. "Alright, I get it. No logical questions." _

* * *

_Now, _one young woman didn't live in the town, but rather outside it. She was a weaver of cloth, whose handiwork was well-known by the surrounding towns in the mountainside. It was rumored that she sat by the creek and spun the water itself into cloth, so smooth were her wares. Her stitches were so tiny, the clothes were said to be held together by magic instead of thread. She was truly a splendid craftsman.

Her products were worth the price she asked, which in itself was a bargain. The girl lived in almost poverty, but she was so patient and gentle that she didn't mind it at all. Everything she needed, from the thatch on her roof to the berries in her meals she found in the mountains. What she didn't have, she grew in a tiny garden outside her home. Anything else she would ever need could be bought in the town. The young lady never saw any other village other than her own, and was still an innocent, unmarried thing although she was well into her twenties. Her name was Cerise.

Now, Cerise was as beautiful as her merchandise. Her hair looked like sunshine, its golden hue hanging far down her back with her bangs pulled by a handkerchief out of the way. Her teeth were straight and pretty, her eyes were the color of the sky, and her voice sounded like a…melody of sorts. And she was sharper than average as well. Unlike many of the other townsfolk, Cerise had been given lessons from her mother before she died in reading and mathematics. She could read as well as write, and could do basic sums for her business. The ladies of the town were always jealous of her looks, which had won over all the eligible young men who tried to woo her, all in vain.

Now, it came to pass in the town that late one evening at dusk, a knight rode in. He'd been in battle and wasn't in the best shape. His clothing was torn and muddy, and his armor was dull. His hair and beard had grown out, since he'd not a place to shave and although he carried himself like any other human; anyone could see that he wasn't quite normal.

* * *

_ "I suppose the __**crimson gaze**__ gave it away?" Integra snorted. Alucard growled in annoyance._

_ "Yes, I suppose that the red eyes may have had something to do with it. Now shut up; I'm not done with the story." _

* * *

The Thirteen took one look at the man and their observations, paired with their knowledge of the religious doctrines, led them to claim that the man upon the black steed was the Prince of Darkness and his horse Death. Word of the demon spread quickly and from the temple the clergy called to the townspeople to lock themselves in their houses and pray for the fiend to leave, lest the whole town be cursed. Now this was unfortunate for the wounded knight, who really needed a place to stay for the evening. He'd been traveling a long way, and was weary. After seeing that he'd get no shelter in the backwards, bigoted town he began to make his way east towards his homeland.

Now, the townspeople had, in their fear for their own souls, forgotten about young Cerise in her tiny home outside the forest. She lived too far away for the cries of the clergy to reach and had no knowledge about the supposed Dark Prince so she'd been out and about, gathering herbs from the garden in the cool air. Consequently, she saw only a somnolent, downtrodden knight in need of shelter coming slowly towards the forest in the dim gloom of the evening. Cerise immediately put down her basket and waved the man down as he passed by on the path.

"Sir! Good Sir, I beg of you- stop!" she cried as she ran towards the man. He stopped the horse and turned to stare at her. "It's noble of you to brave the forest at nightfall, but any good man can see that you're tired. Please come inside and rest for the night. I have little to offer, but what I have-I have to share." The man looked back at the town, realizing that the girl hadn't heard the warnings and decided to take what he could get. He tied the horse to a post on Cerise's fence and she brought him a small amount of straw for the horse to feed on before guiding him inside.


End file.
